This town ain't big enough
by Alias Gan Ainm
Summary: This story was written as a challenge entry. This town ain't big enough - but will that turn out to be good or bad? Contains pondering about blown covers and how to get back into lost good graces. It's a stand-alone story, but might be more enjoyable if you've read "Coffee" and "The Fight".


Ain't big enough

The tension was palpable, making the hair on his neck stand up. This fight had been inevitable since they'd come here. Here being the small town of Nederland, Colorado. He'd done what he could to avoid the confrontation, to be peaceable, but there was only so much a fella' could take. The other guy had made it clear enough: this town just wasn't big enough for the two of them! And so, he and his opponent now stood here, squared off in the classic stance, watching each other closely, ready to strike, but neither willing to make the first move.

Time seemed to stand still, seconds stretched forever. And then it happened, in the blink of an eye the fight was on.

A shotgun threatened, a colt leapt to hand faster than the eye could follow and a bucket of cold water separated the snarling fighters.

Before he even had time to shake the water off, a strong hand pulled him away. He didn't see the rope coming, but he was tied up with it before he could react, and the other end was then firmly attached to the saddle of a horse. A horse, which was now mounted by his friend, or rather by the man he had thought of as a friend, whom he had followed, who was now unceremoniously towing him behind, past the store and then the saloon with all its gawkers.

He'd never suffered such indignity in all his life, and he continued to struggle. What did the other think?

What 'the other' thought was "$%^#! If it isn't one it's the other! Can't they ever back down?!"

Out loud he chastised the living anchor he was dragging towards the edge of town at a trot "Coffee, I really had expected more of you!"

The disappointment in the tone cut deep, deeper than the rope around his neck or the anger still swirling around his mind; it was a colder shower than the bucket of water had been. Of all the humans, this was the one whose approval he sought, the one he'd chosen to follow. All of a sudden, the anger and indignation were gone, replaced by worry. Would he get cast out, forced to leave his newly-found pack? A soft whine escaped his throat. He no longer struggled against the rope but bounded alongside the reddish gelding, anxiously looking up to his pack leader, trying to appease him, whining again, showing his willingness to follow. But the man wearing the black hat with the silver-studded band was ignoring him.

Having reached the edge of town, the horse was allowed to slow down to a walk and gently guided along the outskirts towards the back of the hotel, accompanied by an increasingly apprehensive pooch. All the while, the dark-haired man was thinking fiercely, considerations racing through his mind. Had the dogs with their flashing teeth and loud snarling captured the full attention of all the witnesses? Or had anyone but the shotgun-wielding butcher paid attention to his partner's quick-draw? Was there a chance someone would recognize them because of it? Had his intervention been quick enough? What were the odds? Always the odds.

He had assured his reluctant friend that traveling with a dog would be a good cover. Who had ever heard of Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry having a pet? Now their 'cover' had blown; maybe.

The canine had quickly won his own heart after their initial encounter, and no matter how much his cousin groused, it was obvious the Kid had grown fond of the mischievous dog too. After all, hadn't he caught him sharing his food more than once? And no matter the protests, he knew his partner enjoyed the play-fights, now that Coffee occasionally let him win. The dog had managed to turn his friend back into a kid on occasion, making him forget their worries and the weight of the gun on his hip. If for nothing else, he'd love him for this gift.

If there had still been any question about loyalties going both ways, the lightning-fast action to prevent the owner of the territorial, bad-tempered butcher's dog from using his shotgun on their companion of a few weeks would have been enough to disperse any lingering doubts. But this brought him back to his problem. Did they dare stay or would they have to leave town once more?

With a sigh, the man dismounted and slung a rein over the hitching post at the back of the hotel. The rope was loosened from the saddle horn and a contrite dog used the opportunity to finally capture the attention of his human. He grabbed the makeshift leash between his teeth with a mock growl and tugged playfully. Once the man looked at him (goal achieved), he began his arguments to be allowed to remain a member of their small pack, not getting cast out, in earnest. His mission wasn't over yet, after all.

He started his case by jumping puppy-like in a careful half-circle, giving space and showing he was only young and playful. He added frantic tail-wagging. When this wasn't enough – the human still hadn't changed expression yet – he made his assurances of being a respectful follower more obvious by throwing his front half to the ground with every jump, while his back end with the furiously moving tail pointed skywards. Surely his friendly flag-waving and bowing down would be enough? He knew from experience that humans thought it looked funny and they couldn't stay angry once the first chuckles escaped them. Just to make sure, he grinned in a gesture of insecurity around his lolling tongue and waggled his eyebrows as hard as he could. Finally, success.

Deep dimples showed in the man's cheeks as a warm rumbling laughter burst out and chocolate eyes beamed their affection.

"Alright, Coffee. You can quit your clowning. I'm not really angry at you. I know the other guy was a bully, and you can't stand them any more than the Kid ever could." A human sigh was drowned out by happy barking. "Well, I guess even if someone now suspects who we are, who are they going to tell?"

Golden glowing eyes gazed up adoringly at his wise leader's face, a long wet tongue tried to follow. A slender hand reached out, becoming the new target of the flexible slobbery organ. Accepting his canine thanks, it proceeded to remove the rope from around his neck. Its twin patted a dark brown, furry, still soggy shoulder, then proceeded to scratch the favorite spot behind his right ear which was trying its best to stand to attention.

"I guess we can risk staying a bit longer. After all, this town ain't big enough to have a sheriff."


End file.
